broken

She keeps comparing those
feelings to those eyes with
feelers like dandelions that
bright these damn days
right.on.up.

And all the choices in the
world could never make
those wishes and fill that heart
with those loose eyelashes
that fall when you blow
like children on false
garden rows.

I don't have the heart to
tell her that loneliness she
feels won't be filled with
the flesh of her missing
because she is who she is
and she thrives on when
the roots parachute away.

I don't have it in me to
tell her that all the
false gardens in
the world and those
body parts she involves
in her sling shot heart
attack will never be
enough to make
the beating start.


All the beats in the world
couldn't get you off.